Threshold
by Belfast Docks
Summary: Everyone has threshold moments in life. And everyone's threshold for pain is slightly different. Join Bill, Charlie, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and (shockingly) Dudley Dursley, on an evening adventure in Muggle London. And they aren't out to see the sights, no matter what they told their mother.


**Author's Note:** I wrote this years ago (2008) and originally published it on the HP archive "Checkmated". I thought the site had disappeared, but when it came back up again, I decided to transfer this piece and several others to FFnet to save them before they were lost forever. Because I'm notorious for deleting completed stories off of my computer once I finish writing them.

**Thanks To:** Shiiki, who beta'd this piece on Checkmated way back when. She was a huge help in keeping Ron "in character".

**Story Notes:** I was challenged to write a piece that involved Dudley having contact with the magical world. I don't know if the Weasley boys would all have tattoos or not, but it was fun to write. I was told by one reviewer that Ginny was slightly OOC at the end; if so, my apologies. I see Ginny as being a bit vindictive sometimes. This is really just humor, nothing too serious.

**Pairings:** All Canon (Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, George/Angelina, Bill/Fleur)

* * *

**Threshold**

* * *

Ron shifted nervously, glancing at the multiple neon signs that were buzzing monotonously in the windows of the dimly lit building he was facing. The signs were only a very few sources of light in this desolate part of the narrow street, somewhere in the depths of London and seemingly deserted except for the occasional punk (or group of punks) passing by. Ron couldn't even remember the street's name – they had woven through a labyrinth of roads and alleys since meeting up in front of an old cinema thirty minutes earlier, and he grudgingly had to admit to himself that he was rather lost.

Behind the glass and the buzzing signs, the thud of music with too much bass could be heard, muffled slightly by thin walls and concrete blocks. He wondered if that was what had caused the stress cracks in the dirty pavement beneath his boots. The urge to Apparate back home was stronger than he would have liked to admit.

Sometimes prudence outweighed recklessness. Summoning up his courage he said quietly, "Harry? I don't know about this place."

Harry scowled. "It's _perfectly_ safe, Ron." His tone was that of exasperation, as if he'd had this conversation more than once in the past fifteen minutes, and did not want to have it _yet again_.

Ron glanced down the dark street. A couple of shadows were moving against a boarded-up building further along; they were laughing over what appeared to be a cig judging by the tiny glow of orange flickering between them.

"It doesn't look like it," he muttered.

Bill however, seemed to agree with Harry. Or at least his expression was one of interest, as though he were studying a particularly curious Egyptian mural inside a tomb, rather than a look of wariness due to their less-than-familiar surroundings. Ron felt that his eldest brother could have showed a bit more concern for his siblings while they were on this unknown street; Bill didn't even seem to be gripping his wand within his jacket's pocket. Instead, he mused, "So this is a Muggle one, huh? Pretty similar to ours, really."

"Wizards have them too?" Dudley Dursley looked confused, if not to say downright scared at the remark.

"Yes, but they're a little different," Harry explained to his cousin. Then he turned back to Ron. "We've been over this. The Muggle ones are better, Ron. They're more permanent. Ginny did the research."

Ginny, who was standing just on the curb, rolled her eyes and tossed her long red hair behind her shoulder. "Only because Hermione was _extremely_ busy this past week."

In faded jeans with artistically torn knees and pockets, and a hot pink sweater that was too snug and too low-cut for Ron's liking, the youngest Weasley seemed to fit right in with the area of town they had found themselves in. When a gaggle of girls passed by in the middle of the street just seconds later, all wearing fishnets and very short skirts, they called out enthusiastically that they loved her attire.

To Ron's horror, Ginny waved back and eagerly thanked them.

Deciding it would only fire Ginny's temper if he told her not to speak to strangers on this side of town (whichever side it was), he instead turned to Dudley and asked with a tone of demand, "Do you come here often or something?"

Dudley fidgeted. "I've been here a few times. It's fairly cheap compared to the others. Harry asked me which one I used, and if I could bring you all here tonight –"

"I don't care about _cheap_! Is it _safe_? Harry, I've changed my mind," Ron said. His voice rose to a slightly panicked pitch. "This is actually rather insane. I was wrong –"

Sternly, Charlie pushed his youngest brother in the back, towards the door of the establishment, not bothering to apologize when Ron stumbled and barely caught his balance.

"Sorry, Ron. Can't change your mind. You already decided last week, and you'll see it through." Charlie paused for a second, then added in a slightly gentler voice, "Don't worry, it's really not that bad."

"Besides," George said, "we wouldn't want you to start acting like Percy on us, now would we?" The familiar, maniacal glint flickered in his eyes. Like Ginny, he was dressed to fit his surroundings – the shiny black dragon-hide jacket hugged his frame and had already earned several whistles from two or three dark figures that always passed just outside the circle of orange streetlight while the group had been standing in limbo on the sidewalk in front of this building. And prior to arriving, George had been asked on five dates – much to his bemusement and Ron's annoyance.

"It's really not so bad," Dudley tried to put in helpfully. He turned to Harry, shifting nervously. "So why are...ours...better?"

"The wizards' ones move if you use certain spells or techniques. If you want them to, I mean. And they don't hurt when you get it done. You can also get them removed with a simple spell. But something about the pain of doing it the Muggle way makes it more...permanent."

Ginny smiled warmly at Dudley, who looked just a tad horrified at Harry's blasé remark. She said, "I have to admit, I never thought there would ever be something Muggle that outdid magical ways. I was really stunned after I looked into it. It all has to do with the pain you feel. The pain is sort of a weird magic in itself – or that's how the research makes it sound."

"_Don't_ tell dad." George's eye twitched. "He'll be _interested_."

Charlie snorted. "That's an understatement. He'll be more than _interested_; he'll want to get one, too."

The Weasleys, minus Ron, laughed loudly at the very idea. It was George who finally managed to say, "Mum would really go ballistic, wouldn't she?"

Ron moaned. "Well, speaking of _ballistic_, Hermione is going to be pissed with me for a week because of this, you know!"

"And just what is a week?" George said bracingly, turning to look at his little brother. "Seven days. And seven days will fly by. Before you know it, she'll have forgotten all about it."

"_Forgotten_? How the hell do you expect her to _forget_ –?"

Charlie cut in. "Ron? Again, I seem to recall that this was _your_ idea."

"In fact," Ginny added with a smirk, "I believe you told Hermione to _sod off_ when she suggested you _not_ do it just yet, because she didn't have time this week to help you. You told her you were going to do it tonight no matter what, because if you didn't everyone at the office would laugh at you or some shit."

"Which means, if she's mad at you longer than a week," George went on, "it won't be because of this."

Grimly, Harry said, "It'll be because you mouthed off to her."

Ron scowled at his brothers, his sister, and his best mate. "Fat help you lot are! You're only making things worse!"

"Well, it would be a shame to turn back now." Bill jerked his thumb towards the door. "Shall we?"

Against Ron's protests and splutters, Charlie and George took his arms and forced him towards the front door, which had iron bars attached to the outside in an attempt to discourage potential thieves. Just as they reached it, Ron managed to roughly shake himself loose and glared at them, and when Bill pulled back on the handle, Ron did his best to boldly lead the group into the outer room. He certainly wouldn't allow Charlie and George to gain too much ground in this battle of wills, even if he _was_ more nervous than he wished.

The first thing Ron noticed was the front counter. It was old and badly scuffed; someone had taken the notion to slap bumper stickers all over it and countless people had added their own colorful graffiti in the open spaces. The overhead light was purplish in color, which created more shadows and dark spots than anything else – this was probably best, because the floor looked as though it hadn't been cleaned since the place opened. The music was coming from a stereo in a back room, thudding on in repetition. A ratty couch had been shoved against one wall, obviously meant for guests, next to which stood a strange cone-shaped lamp with sluggishly moving blobs inside of it. There was an odd chrome and glass object next to the door that looked as though it was meant to hold something within it, though Ron had no idea what, and paint was peeling on the faded walls.

To make matters worse, the girl behind the counter had jet-black hair, obviously dyed, and her skin seemed overly pale. She was wearing a purple tank top that left little to the imagination, and her black mascara and lipstick gave her the appearance of a Muggle Inferius. The multiple piercings in her eyebrows, nose, and ears didn't boost Ron's confidence, either.

The girl didn't speak to the group, but instead glanced at Bill. Her eyebrows contracted at the sight of the multiple scars on his face. Ron thanked heaven that George was wearing a black cap, which he had pulled down over his ears to hide the gaping hole in the side of his head. Otherwise, Ron was sure this girl would have completely wigged out, and called the Muggle authorities.

"My brother," Bill said, gesturing towards Ron, "would like to pick something out."

The girl still didn't speak. She stood silent for a moment, before she _finally_ reached underneath the counter and pulled out a huge binder, which she plopped on top of the scarred wood and flipped open. Charlie shoved Ron forward, and the group crowded around him.

"So what's it gonna be?" the girl finally drawled. "Something sweet, for your girlfriend? Or something naughty, for the slags?"

Ron gaped and swallowed. Something _naughty_? As if Hermione wasn't going to be annoyed with him in the first place! He had no remote idea what he should retort with, and in the end it was Ginny who answered.

"He might need something that says _sissy git_. Can you do it in bright pink?"

"Sod off, Gin!" Ron snarled at her.

"Then stop gaping like a bloody fish and pick something out!" Ginny snarled back, while the girl behind the counter smirked just slightly.

"Cool it," Bill said sharply, stepping in only to prevent the potential argument.

Fuming at his sister, Ron looked back at the book. George was flipping idly through the pages, quite interested.

"I don't know..." Ron mumbled. He suddenly felt rather stupid, standing in this dingy, dark room, while his family and best mate were enjoying themselves far too much at his obvious expense.

"Well, I have the Smeltings' initials," Dudley said, obviously trying to desperately overcome his fear of being surrounded by wizards, one of whom had tried to kill him with a Ton Tongue Toffee several years prior. It seemed that talking was the only way he could keep from panicking, though he was doing a much better job of keeping calm than Ron would have ever expected. In fact, Ron had wondered more than once already how in the name of _Merlin_ Harry had ever managed to coerce Dudley into coming along on this escapade – he still couldn't believe that Dudley had come of his own free will as Harry had told them several times at the cinema before the only Muggle in the group showed up to join them.

"And Moxy did a great job with that one, too," the girl said. Her attitude seemed to cheer slightly – apparently she had only just noticed Dudley, though Ron wasn't sure how she could have missed him previously, unless she was too startled by all the red hair to see Dudley's massive build and black leather jacket.

"Yeah," Dudley said fondly. "I really like it."

"Where is it, Dud?" Harry asked.

"On my bicep, of course. That's where all of us got them."

"You all got the same thing?"

"Nah. Piers got the Union Jack, and –"

While Dudley continued to tick off what each of his friends had gotten several months before, Charlie said, "Well, you can't get a dragon, Ron." George had just flipped to a page showing various dragons, and the second Weasley was scanning the images with a fond smile. "I might get one, though."

Bill rolled his eyes. "You already have one."

"Yea, but it isn't a Mug –" Charlie stopped abruptly, realizing what he had almost said. He managed a smile at the girl. "I mean; it wasn't a _major_ deal, just a small thing."

"It's the sized of your hand and it's in the center of your chest!" Ron gaped at Charlie. "You don't call that a major deal?"

Dangerously, Charlie responded, "Ronnie, just pick something out and stop whining, for crying out loud."

"Here," George said briskly, before Ron could snap back at Charlie. "Fantasy creatures."

"Those aren't fantasy –" Ron's statement was cut off when Ginny thrust her leg over George's and crushed Ron's foot to keep him from blurting out the fact that the unicorns and fairies on the next page were not, in fact, fantasy creatures. He swore loudly and glared at her; she glared back and shifted her eyes towards the girl, who was busy looking at the pages in the binder with George. Ron grumbled under his breath. He hated being around Muggles; it was too hard not to slip up and say something they wouldn't understand.

"The fantasy line is popular." The girl behind the counter glanced at Dudley again. "Didn't one guy in your group get a dragon, Dud?"

"Yeah, that was Malcolm. It was really great – Moxy had the tail wrapping down his arm to his elbow."

"That was a bang-up job, that was," she agreed.

The idea of a tail sparked Ron's thought process. How could he have possibly not considered the option before? After all, he _was_ a Gryffindor, and he had unofficially been a member of the Order. Before anyone could respond to the girl's remark, Ron asked, "Do you have a phoenix?"

She paused, obviously thinking, and then started flipping through the pages with George to see if there were any phoenixes available.

Harry however, scowled.

"You can't get a phoenix, and you know it. That's what _I_ have."

"No way, you have one?" Dudley's attitude changed to one of awe; it seemed he suddenly couldn't believe his cousin had been so rebellious, despite being a wizard.

"On my shoulder blade. Rather small, actually. Got it when..." Harry shifted, glancing at the girl. "When I got my job."

"And sexy as bloody hell." Ginny grinned over her shoulder at her boyfriend.

Dudley whistled. "Never would have thought it of _you_, Harry."

"Well, getting my job was a pretty big thing."

Bill spoke up. "So, Ron. That means you can't get a phoenix or a dragon. You'll have to pick something else." He smiled at his brother, but Ron only scowled back.

"So I can't get what anyone else has, is that it? What do _you_ have that I can't get?"

Bill chuckled. "My name in hieroglyphics, _idiot_. And I expect it would look pretty damned stupid for you to have that on your body, considering your name is _Ron_, and mine is _Bill_."

Harry looked interested. "When'd you do that, Bill?"

"Oh, gad, years ago," Bill said lightly. "Shortly after I got my job, too. Of course, mine's a... Well, mine is like Ron's will be, and like yours, Harry. You know what I mean. I didn't have many options in Egypt."

"You work in archeology or something?" the girl asked curiously.

Bill smiled at her. "Sort of. Or, at least, I used to."

"So where is it?" Ginny asked. She looked as though she'd never seen her brother before, but also as if the very thought made him even more awesome in her mind's eye.

"Middle of my back, going straight down. Fleur loves it."

Charlie appeared more amused that so many of his family members were coming clean. He turned to George and said, "Let me guess – you have one too, George?"

George frowned. "Use that thick head of yours for once, Charlie."

"Well, I don't know! You're sort of the Weasley wildcard!"

"Come on! Tell us, George," Ginny urged, smiling sweetly at her brother.

George twitched; everyone's eyes were suddenly on him. "All right, damn it, yes!"

Several people chorused, "No kidding! Where? What is it?"

"Oh, bloody hell! It's Fred's initials and it's on my right arm, up high so _mum_ can't see it if I'm wearing shirt sleeves, all right?"

Instantly, as fast as they had begged George for information, the group fell silent, and Ron, ears burning, turned back to the book to avoid his brother's surly glare. No one had even been thinking of Fred, but whenever Fred's name was mentioned everyone automatically felt uncomfortable.

After a long silence, Charlie finally said, "Sorry, George. Didn't know."

"S'alright," George mumbled. "Just thought...you know...it'd be a nice way to remember him. And mine _is_ a _major deal_ – I did the research, too."

While the Weasleys, Harry, and Dudley picked up on the hint, the girl behind the counter was looking at George with a strange expression. Ron wondered what she was thinking and why she looked so confused, until Harry spoke up.

"It was his twin brother. He's not gay or anything."

The girl's confusion changed to an expression of mortification. "Oh, bugger – I'm sorry. Didn't realize..." Her face turned pink. "I mean, he said it was a bloke's initials and I thought... Not that that's bad, or anything! I mean; I'm cool with it. Just surprised me."

George, however, looked royally miffed. Turning to Harry he snarled, "She thought I was –?"

"Oh, hell," Bill muttered, thumping George on the arm. "She didn't know you had a twin brother! Fred could have been anyone! It's okay, miss," he added, glancing apologetically at the girl. "His twin brother... Well, our brother too...died a few years ago. But back to the problem at hand. Ron, hurry up and pick something out before George loses his temper or Fred comes back to haunt you. I'm not sure which would be worse. We don't have all night, you know!"

"I don't know what to get!" Ron complained.

"I still like _sissy git_."

Rounding on Ginny, Ron snapped, "And what do _you_ have?"

The group instantly looked at Ginny, who remained calm and poised. Arching an eyebrow, she replied, "Nothing."

"Nothing? Come on, you play for the –" Ron barely stopped before he blurted out the name of Ginny's Quidditch team.

"So? That doesn't mean I have to get something to advertise it. What if I switch teams? Then it would look pretty damned stupid, wouldn't it?"

When Ron still looked doubtful, Harry said, "She doesn't have one, Ron."

"And Harry would know." George grinned wickedly; the conversation turning from Fred was always a good thing, because George took on remnants of his former self then.

"Yes, he would." Ginny's eyebrows were into her hairline by this point. "But I think that's a bit beside the point, don't you?"

"Oy," Ron groaned. "Moving on. So I can't get a phoenix or a dragon." He paused, glancing nervously about the room again, still uncomfortable. "What about... How about a griffin? Or a lion?" he asked hopefully.

"Does anyone here have a griffin or a lion?" Bill looked at each face, but everyone merely shrugged and shook their heads.

Dudley was the only person to speak up. "Nah, my other ones are a skull and crossbones on my lower back, and then my initials on my chest – I can't put anything where my mum would see it, either. Harry knows how she is."

"No kidding," Harry muttered under his breath.

Turning back to the girl behind the counter, Bill briskly said, "A griffin or a lion, then. Do you have either?"

"Sure." The girl flipped a few more pages into the fantasy creature section, until she located a griffin. "The lions are further back."

"Pick," Bill ordered, crossing his arms and giving Ron a "look" that was extremely reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley. Ron wondered how his brother, despite the scars and long shock of red hair, could pull their mother off so infernally well. It was damned unnerving and creepy. He shifted his weight and tried to avoid Bill's sharp gaze.

"Which do you think Hermione would like better?"

"It's your decision, Ron!" Ginny looked exasperated. "Not Hermione's! You sort of excluded her when you decided to go through with this tonight, instead of waiting for her help!"

Ron looked back at the page, battling a surge of guilt. It was true – he had not been overly understanding when he'd told Hermione he _was_ going to do this whether she helped him or not, and that he was definitely going to do it tonight, no matter what. The griffin on the page wasn't overly large, but it looked fierce and strong with its tail curling around its claws. If anything, he knew Hermione would like him to get something that symbolized bravery and courage. The griffin might make her temper soften somewhat when he saw her in a few hours.

Taking a deep breath he said, "All right... Let's go with... a griffin."

"Where do you want it?" the girl asked.

"Right shoulder blade, like Harry's."

Dudley contrived to speak up again. "It hurts there. Malcolm got his second one on his shoulder blade and –"

"On my arm then!"

"Shoulder blade," Harry said. "It's not _that_ bad, Dud. And besides, all of us at the Au –"

This time, Ginny twisted and stepped on Harry's foot. Harry's breath hissed inward and he stumbled forward; Ginny caught him and steadied him. The girl was watching them as though she thought that they were just a little bit weird.

Despite the pain, Harry gave Ginny a quick look to thank her for her timely intervention, and then said to Ron, "What I meant was, all of our _coworkers_ have one on their shoulder blades. It's a barmy tradition at the office, Ron, so you have to get it on your shoulder blade!"

Ron swallowed. "Okay, okay. Shoulder blade."

"What does Kingsley have?" George asked, watching as Harry massaged his foot.

"A lynx."

"Funny to think of him with one, if you know what I mean. But a lynx is definitely Kingsley. I'm surprised you didn't get a _stag_, Harry."

"If I ever get a second, that might be it. But you know...everyone kept bugging me to get the phoenix."

While this conversation batted about, the girl stepped from behind the counter and headed for the back room. "I'll go on and tell Moxy you're waiting. He shouldn't be much longer – he's almost finished with his current customer. You want a griffin, on the right shoulder blade."

She disappeared before Ron could argue.

As soon as the girl was gone, Ginny glared at the group – but mostly at Ron. "Sissy _git_," she declared. "He just passed Auror training and he's afraid of a little pain!"

"I am _not_ afraid of a little pain!" Ron hissed. "But if I can avoid it –"

"You'll be fine, Ron," Harry assured his best mate.

"You're hardly one to talk – you just nearly cried because Ginny stepped on your foot!"

Though she hadn't apologized to Ron for stepping on _his_ foot, Ginny did turn to Harry and kiss him lightly on the mouth.

"I'm really sorry, Harry. But I couldn't let you say _Auror_, now could I?"

"No, you couldn't."

"I'll make it up to you later."

Bill muttered, "Too much information."

"Really," Charlie added. "We'd rather not hear about your love life, Gin."

"Oh, all of you can _sod off_. I'm grown, damn it!" Ginny fired back. "I don't need protection from my big brothers, especially when it comes to Harry!"

Fortunately, before the Weasley boys could gang up on their sister – who likely would have hexed them all – the girl poked her head out of the back room. "Moxy can take you now if you want. His current customer passed out for a bit."

Ron forgot about Harry's love life with Ginny, and instantly turned for the door leading back outside. Charlie and George quickly grabbed his arms and forced him towards the back room instead, despite Ron's renewed protests about people passing out from pain. Bill, Ginny, Harry, and Dudley followed, all grinning and trying not to laugh as the girl let them pass.

* * *

"Well, you lot were certainly out late tonight." Molly Weasley glanced up from her knitting, but smiled as her grown children trooped into the living room from the kitchen. "Did you have a good time? Where was it you went, again?"

"Muggle London," Bill supplied quickly. "Just to see the sights, mum. Nothing too wild."

Mr. Weasley, who had been reading a Charms quarterly, instantly looked up. "Really? How fascinating! So what did you –?"

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips, and waved her wand at her knitting, which flew neatly into its basket beside her armchair. "I don't know, Bill," she said, cutting her husband off before he could get started on his love for Muggles. "I can't imagine there would be many interesting sights in Muggle London. What if someone guessed you were wizards? Then you would have to erase memories and the Ministry would get upset and..."

"No memories were erased, and no one guessed, mum." Charlie settled into another armchair.

George yawned and flopped on the couch. "They're a bit like us, really. Without the magic."

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth again, likely to ply the group with further questions about Muggles and their lives, but Ginny quickly asked, "Where's Hermione?"

"Right here," Hermione's voice came from a corner of the room – she was buried beneath a pile of books, most with titles about house elves and magical creatures, as well as several books on magical law. Her tone was surly, and the Weasley children stiffened just a bit as she spoke.

"Hermione's been wonderful company tonight," Mrs. Weasley said. "But next time, you should all plan something to do together, when she doesn't have so much work."

"Yes," Mr. Weasley echoed. "It isn't polite to exclude Hermione, even if she did get a good bit of work done this evening on her projects."

George smiled lazily at his parents. "We will, don't worry. And Hermione was welcome to come with us tonight, but she insisted she had all those books to go through. Maybe in _a week or so_?" He glanced at Ron, who was still standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and snickered at his little brother.

Ron's face was pale and set in a grimace, and his back was slightly arched from his shirt. He declined to answer George's remark, resorting to a cold expression as a response instead.

Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes. "Ron, dear, are you all right? You look ill."

Through gritted teeth, Ron muttered, "Fine."

"He's all right, Mrs. Weasley." Harry spoke up quickly, before Mrs. Weasley could investigate further. "He just didn't enjoy the evening as much as we did."

"Probably because Hermione wasn't with you," she said knowledgeably as she waved her wand at her knitting again. The needles began to click and clack on their own.

"_Humph_." Hermione cleared her throat, and continued scribbling notes.

George pushed off the couch, grinning sheepishly. "Well! I need to get back to the shop. Angelina had a girls' night with Alicia and Katie, and I should be there when she gets in." He quickly exited the room for the kitchen.

"And I've got to head back to Romania this evening," Charlie added. He stood up, stretched, bent, and kissed his mother's cheek. "Only a week's vacation, you know."

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "It always passes so fast."

"Fleur will be worried." Bill also bent and kissed his mother's cheek. "I'll head out, too."

Ginny smiled at her mum. "Harry and I should get back before it gets any later." She turned to follow Harry into the kitchen, but as she passed Ron, she slapped him heartily on the back of his shoulder. "Have a nice night, Ron," she said cheerfully.

Bill, Charlie, George, and Harry froze as Ron let out an involuntary howl of pain. Ginny was ready for his gut reaction – she had already ducked into the kitchen and taken refuge behind her older brothers, just as Ron whirled around with suddenly drawn wand and fired a hex into their midst. Harry and George both reacted by quickly casting Shield Charms; Ron's spell bounced off the ceiling, the table, and the floor, finally shattering the window to spin wildly into the night. It didn't really matter that the hex hadn't hit its target, though – Ron had started to shout obscenities at Ginny that brought Mrs. Weasley to her feet in fury, and had Mr. Weasley gaping in shock.

"_Ronald Bilius Weasley, you apologize to your sister right this second!_"

"She hit me on purpose!" Ron yelled, still trying to get an aim in at Ginny, who was quite well hidden behind Charlie's muscular torso. She stuck her face around his arm and grinned evilly at Ron, who fired another hex. It was Bill who deflected it this time.

"She did not hit you!" Mrs. Weasley's face was blotchy red. "She merely patted your shoulder, like this! That was not _hitting_ and it certainly didn't call for –"

But when his mother touched his shoulder, Ron yelped again, and wrenched away in pain.

Mrs. Weasley's fury changed to concern. "_Ron_? What's wrong? Did you hurt your shoulder? Ginny?" Her eyes narrowed on her daughter, who was trying to look innocent.

It was Hermione who responded, however. She had Vanished her books and was just entering the kitchen. Crisply, she replied, "It's nothing, Mrs. Weasley. He got a tattoo this evening, that's all."

While Mrs. Weasley's mouth opened in horror, Hermione smiled at Ron and added, "I'll see you back at our apartment? I daresay you'll want to sleep alone this evening – I would hate to bump your shoulder accidentally and cause you any additional pain. As I understand it, the pain can possibly continue for several days."

Ron's ears turned bright red, while his brothers chuckled at the implication.

"Hermione, it's not a big deal," Harry insisted, trying not to smile as he stepped in on Ron's behalf. "It's really rather small. And tasteful."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," Hermione answered brightly. "And I know I'll love whatever he chose. Thank you for going with him, Harry. You've already been through it, after all."

"So you aren't mad at him?" George asked, clearly stunned that Hermione sounded so calm about the ordeal.

Hermione smiled. "Oh, heavens no. I'm furious with him."

"For the tattoo?"

She laughed. "No, of course not! I know all about the Aurors and their shoulder tattoos. No, I'm _mad _at Ron for telling me to _sod off_, instead of asking my constructive opinion on this decision and waiting for when I had the chance to do the research and help him find an appropriate subject for the design. He knew I was working on the second part of that house elf reform project this week and he was just mad because I wouldn't drop everything to help him immediately."

Mrs. Weasley however, had missed most of this conversation, and finally found her voice. "_You went out and got a tattoo?_ Well, you'll just go straight back and have it removed. I understand the wizard tattoo parlors can remove them as easily as they put them on. I will not have any of my children walking about with ink embedded into their skin!"

As all of the Weasley boys shifted nervously, Mr. Weasley stepped into the kitchen and said, "Molly, dear, it may not be so bad. After all... Auror tradition and everything... Let's have a look at it, Ron!"

"I don't want to look at it, I want it _removed_," Mrs. Weasley snapped. "I won't have any of my children brandishing tattoos!"

"Well…that's just it, Mum." Ginny grinned, and shifted towards the door. Instantly, the tension in the air crackled – it seemed that everyone present knew a gigantic bombshell was about to explode.

And sure enough, Ginny did not disappoint.

"It's a _Muggle_ tattoo. It's permanent, unless you have it removed by _Muggle _methods. Or the wizards at St. Mungo's use extremely painful spells to take it off."

There was a slight pause. The room had become completely silent, which seemed to last several seconds while everyone remained frozen. Then Bill, Charlie, George, and Harry abruptly bolted for the yard after Ginny. Hermione also seemed to realize things did not bode well, and hurried out the door to wait for Ron.

As each member of the group outside twisted and Apparated, the sudden resounding echoes from within the kitchen followed them hauntingly to their destinations and drowned out Mr. Weasley's amazed remarks that his youngest son had ventured into a Muggle tattoo parlor, and what on earth it was like, and could he see what a Muggle tattoo looked like in appearance, and if it was different from a Wizard tattoo.

It was only Molly Weasley's turned fury at her husband's approval of all things Muggle that allowed a red-eared Ron to escape the kitchen unnoticed to the yard, where Hermione grabbed his hand before he was missed inside and Apparated into the tight compression of sanctuary.

And despite the fact that his mother was in a right temper and that it had been Hermione who let the cat out of the bag so to speak, Ron couldn't help but smile sloppily at the thought that his girlfriend had waited for him to Apparate him home. It meant that she wasn't _really_ mad, even if he knew he'd been a right arse in snapping at her a week earlier because he wanted her help when he knew perfectly well that she had a deadline at work and couldn't drop everything for him.

And he knew she would love what he'd chosen. He'd apologize properly once they made it home.

**~FIN~**


End file.
